Coffee & Things
by Night Dawn
Summary: The coffee shop AU that no one asked for. When Amu's newest customer turns out to be a famous concert violinist, she gets a lot more than she bargained for. Ikuto/Amu
1. Chapter 1

**One**

The door chimes abruptly, and a tall, unfamiliar man walks in without preamble. Amu looks up from scrubbing the counter to greet the customer, and notes offhandedly that she's never seen him before.

It's a small enough café that her lack of recognition is an anomaly. The people who come are either loyal customers, introduced by loyal customers, or college students. He is none of those. It's early in the morning, and most of her regulars haven't arrived yet.

"Hi," she says, with a bubbly smile, because that's customer service for you. "Can I help you?"

He drifts forward, towards her, towards the counter. There is something familiar about him, on second glance. There is something about him that makes anyone do a double take. It's his eyes, she realizes - the deep glint in those midnight eyes, and the purple shadows under them. He's even taller up close, with broad shoulders and a well black, tailored suit jacket.

A dark coat and gray scarf completes the colour scheme. He looks out of place with the pale yellow walls and round tables and the pastries served with doilies on the plate.

"Large black coffee, if you please. "

His voice is pleasantly deep, and although she tries to recall, she can't remember if they've met before. Amu tilts her head, moving to the cash register. "Would you like any cream or sugar?"

The response comes crisply. "No thank you."

"So you take your coffee like your soul?"

She doesn't mean to blurt it out. The words just tumble out of her mouth like the filter between her thoughts and her speech momentarily collapsed. Perhaps it's too early, and her functions haven't switched on yet. There's a telling silence.

Amu swallows, cheeks flushing. Her first reaction is to cross her arms and lift her chin, but that's hardly going to gain her any favours. She begins with an apology, knitting her eyebrows together when he cuts her off with a wave of his hand.

"My, is that how you treat all your customers?"

His lips are quirked. There's enough of a joke in it that she meets his gaze sheepishly. Her face feels hot.

"No," Amu murmurs in response. "I think you're just special."

He lets out a quiet sound of amusement, and by the time she looks up he's already moved on. The man flashes a gold American Express card, and she lets gaze wander absently as he pays. His scarf is soft wool, and the bottom of it dangles just over the counter. She wonders what he does, and why he's so familiar. She wonders why she cares.

Her coffee shop is enough, just because it's hers. It's compact and painted in sweet pastels and the cakes in the display are frosted with meticulous care. Amu wouldn't have it any other way. She moves to make his coffee, black, as requested.

She'll probably never see him again.

They're walking past a magazine stand when Amu holds up a hand. She moves closer to the offending glossy cover. This time, there is no doubt about the recognition. The man from her coffee shop from yesterday morning is smiling at her from a magazine cover. No — the bare curve of his lips hardly qualifies as a smile — it's a smirk.

* * *

"Seriously, Amu?" Rima rolls her eyes from where they've stopped, crossing her arms and looking around with barely concealed impatience. "These are the magazines tweens buy. Why are we standing here?"

Amu blinks, once, twice. A name is written at the bottom left, declaring, _Tsukiyomi Ikuto: on music, family, and life_.

"Do you..." She trails off. "Do you know him?"

Rima's lucid eyes flicker towards the magazine. "Vaguely. He's that violinist that's been quite popular recently." She shrugs, lightly. "I've heard his work has been hitting it off with old people and teen girls. And you're neither. So can we go."

"Wait," Amu protests. "Just a moment."

Rima stands by with a blank expression as Amu picks up the offending item with gentle fingers. She flips through it, and it briefly crosses her mind that it's rather a waste of her time to read about the opinion of some guy that bought coffee from her shop and plays violin.

And rationality trumps the curiosity, but it's something entirely beyond curiosity that compels her to pick it up, and make her way to the cashier. She fishes out a crumpled paper bill from her jacket pocket and purchases the magazine before returning to the front. The packet of glossy pages just barely fits into her purse after it's rolled up.

"Done?" Rima drawls out, raising an eyebrow. When Amu nods in agreement, she tips her chin down, and gestures in the general direction of the food court. "It's been a horrific week, and I hear the ice cream calling my name."

Amu smiles, a little helplessly. "Your dentist will despise you if you keep this up."

Rima is silent for a long moment, and around them the buzz of conversation seems to rise. It's the crowd of a Sunday afternoon at the mall. The ice cream shop is just up around the corner, and it's quite popular. Amu turns to suggest that they wait in line now to speed the process of procuring a nice, large waffle cone with chocolate chip cookie dough, when she catches Rima's gaze.

It's almost soft, something light in the golden depths. The flicker lasts only for a moment, and then it's gone, but Amu doesn't imagine the accompanying flush that rises to Rima's cheeks.

"There's a concert on Tuesday," she mutters gruffly. "If you actually like violin, if you want to go see..."

It takes a moment to understand the offer. "That's in like three days," Amu says. "Surely it's sold out by now if Ikuto is that popular. And —"

Rima looks away. "I can ask Fujisaki and his stupid chain of hotels. If he can't procure some sold out tickets, then there's obviously no point to him being all rich and everything."

And that's that.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading. Any feedback is very much appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I'm determined to finish this and since I have most of it plotted it updates should be weekly. Enjoy:

* * *

Two

Somehow, Nagihiko knows people, and Tuesday evening finds them outside the Roy Parsons Hall. Amu is in her most formal dress and yet somehow still underdressed. Contrary to Rima's description of the fanbase, there is an audience beyond old people and teen girls. This demographic is much more specific and they mill around the entrance of the hall, wearing expensive clothing and imperious expressions.

Amu wonders whether it has more to do with the quality of the music or the price of the tickets that the concert attracts so many wealthy people. Her mind wanders back to Ikuto's sharply tailored suit and she decides that it isn't farfetched after all. He appears to be in the same boat himself, after all.

But she's not. It somehow makes her feel even more insignificant.

"Amu." Nagihiko glides into the void on her left with an unnatural grace. His voice draws her out of her reverie. "Are you alright? You've been staring absently for a minute. I mean, unless I'm mistaken, the show you'd like to see is inside the building and not here."

He offers a reassuring look, laying a light hand on her shoulder. It's a familiar warmth and Amu automatically relaxes into it. She finds enough presence of mind to look around her, this time with a focused eye.

"Where's Rima?"

Nagihiko gestures vaguely. "Went inside. She said she felt cold."

Amu's lips curl up in a teasing grin, her trepidation mostly fading away. "And you didn't offer her your jacket? Shame on you."

His expression shifts, just a little. She knows him well enough to pick up on it. "I did. She simply refused."

Amu shakes her head and exhales in a quiet sound of assent. Rima's walls are tall and made of stone.

There's a brief pause. Around them, the cluster is starting to disperse. It is drawing closer to the starting time. Amu shifts, feeling the autumn breeze on her bare legs. The bottom of her dress rustles, a gentle whisper in the night symphony.

Then Nagihiko tilts his head, a touch of curiosity present on his face. His voice draws her attention back. "Say," he murmurs. "This isn't your usual preferred scene. I'd never noted your love for the classical genre, and I certainly hadn't predicted it was enough to warrant a concert attendance."

"That's," Amu says sheepishly, a hint of red creeping up her neck. She immediately understands the question, to her chagrin. "It's a recent thing, actually. He — Ikuto, I mean — he came into the café recently. I was drawn to him for some strange reason. It was just a whim."

His eyebrow arches, an amused curl tugging at the edge of his lips. "A very expensive whim. It figures you would like the broody, musical type."

She blushes harder. "I didn't mean to cause you trouble, it's just, Rima was so insistent. I'm sorry, I..."

Nagihiko cuts her off. His eyes are gentle, and they say everything and there's no need to vocalize. There's another frozen moment, and it feels like they could stand there forever. It's understanding, which, Amu thinks, is better than love.

They don't belong in the same world anymore, not like when they used to be neighbours in high school or together in college. When he came out with his business major, he stepped into his role at his father's hotel business. She started her café from scratch, and it pays and she's proud but it's not a luxury brand name.

For friendship, it doesn't matter. Nagihiko smiles softly.

"Let's go inside," he murmurs at last. 

* * *

Ikuto's performance is masterful. He strings the audience's emotions together, and plucks them with quick, delicate fingers, steady and sure. The violin echoes in the chamber, sometimes soft and mournful, sometimes a leap of quick energy that crashes as quick as it ascended. The deep red velvet curtains sets a backdrop to the lone figure on stage.

Even when a pianist and cellist join him, he is still alone. The snowy evening, and the fiery sunset, the deep forest, and the craggy mountain rock — he makes them his with the deliberate slide of his bow. If Amu hadn't exactly enjoyed it before, she has certainly developed a new sense of appreciation for classical music.

She suddenly understands his claim to fame with greater clarity.

He's not the best. Certainly, there are violinists that have better technique, better feeling. But somehow, his music touches her soul.

The intermission comes too quickly, and Amu's chest is still buzzing with the electric current that surges through the crowd. Nagihiko stands after a brief respite, and Rima rises as well. The rustle of her skirt is almost the only sound in the entire hall until others stand to stretch their legs and take a break.

"Well? How did you like it?" Nagihiko inquires over the background chatter.

Rima crosses her arms, lifting her chin. "I hope you're not going to permanently covert to one of those classical instrumental music people. It would be painful as hell to try and find a new best friend, just saying."

Amu lets out a half laugh. "Well," she says with a shrug. "No promises. He played well," she adds, almost as an afterthought.

"No duh," Rima answers, still unimpressed.

But then, surreptitiously, Rima's hand snakes out and claims Nagihiko's elbow. He regards her with a shadowed gaze, and then leans in to whisper something. There is an exchange between them, something that takes place with hushed conversation and meaningful looks.

Amu stands as well, weaving around to slip away and give them privacy. There is no defining them. That will only cause headaches for everyone involved.

She slides into the aisle, and makes her way up the carpet covered stairs. The double doors at the top are open, and Amu files out after a couple. She strides through the halls. Most of the time, she's fine, even happy, with what she's been allotted in life. Other times, it feels like there could be something more.

Amu makes quick work of finding a water fountain and then bends over to take a sip. There's no use in thinking like that.

The water is a shock of ice and gradually, it clears her mind. She's only managed to gulp down a quick mouthful before she hears a low voice behind her.

"Fancy seeing you again," Ikuto drawls out.

She whips around.

There is a surrealism to the entire thing. Amu remembers meeting him at her café, watching him from behind the counter. It's a little strange to be here now. He's dressed in dark colours once again, with a tie hanging carelessly from its messy loop around the collar. The top buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing the soft curve of his throat.

He's standing close enough for her to name what brand of cologne he uses.

"You," she stammers for a moment, and then regains composure and straightens her spine. The cool, closed expression she maintains is enough to earn her a reputation that proves to only be just that, a reputation, around her friends. "What are you doing here?"

Ikuto watches her, not even concealing the dry amusement that crosses his features. It's as if he sees past the façade.

"It's my concert," he says, with no small amount of smug superiority colouring his voice. "I am allowed to attend my own concert, aren't I?"

He probably thinks he's clever. Amu scowls. "I meant here," she says pointedly, "standing behind me while I use the water fountain."

His lips quirk harder. "And how do you know I was not simply waiting for a turn myself?"

She lets out a small sound of annoyance, fingers briefly clenching before turning away. Amu exhales, blinking away the cobwebs. There's something about him, something about him that draws her in. It's a connection that transcends good sense and bad sense and everything inbetween.

"Well," Ikuto is saying, "this lovely coincidence of a second meeting has left me at a disadvantage. You already know my name, but I am at a loss for yours."

Amu half laughs, despite herself. "Hinamori Amu. But not knowing my name is hardly a disadvantage if it won't affect you in the future."

He frowns, and there is a delicate slant of his eyebrows. The overhead light artistically casts most of his face in shadow. "However then will I know what to put on the marriage certificate?"

There is a brief pause. Ikuto's mock confused expression never leaves his features, and Amu simply stares at him. It's a joke that seems clever at first thought, and then the implied meaning seeps in through the cracks.

"Is that your twisted way of trying to convey something?" she asks. "Because if so, I haven't gotten the message."

His quirk of the lips is such a subtle movement that Amu almost doesn't catch it. "Let's just say I'll see you around," Ikuto says breezily.

And then in a whirl of expensive clothing and cologne, he's gone, sweeping down the hall without breaking stride even once. Amu nearly gapes after him, before she catches herself and levels a glare at his fading silhouette.

If he thinks this is funny, it frankly is not.

* * *

 **Please leave any comments/constructive criticism. Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Life has been super busy but I finally managed to get this up. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Three**

"My, fancy the coincidence of seeing you again," Ikuto says, and there is an amused undertone to his voice that almost shows on his face but not quite. His black Mercedes is neatly parked a few cars down on the street, and she only knows because she was watching as he pulled in.

The casual _again_ that he tempers his greeting with makes her want to scowl and smile at the same time.

"Large coffee," he continues. "Black. I assure you if you attempt to add any cream or sugar you'll most ardently regret it."

"I won't," Amu says, a promise.

When she finishes his drink and places it on the counter, he looks around and makes no attempt to leave.

"This is quite early."

"I'm baking the pastries," she explains. "People will start to filter in soon, and it'll be ready by then. Technically..." She tips her head and conceals her smile. "I'm technically not open yet."

Ikuto catches on quickly. "But you let me in, because I'm special, right?"

"Maybe," she agrees. "Wait here. I'm going to bring the cupcakes out so I can frost them."

Amu ducks into the back and checks her timers. The cupcakes need a minute, and so she rifles through her drawer and grabs her lemon yellow baking mitts.

The heat fans pleasantly across her face, and she thinks of Ikuto waiting by the counter, sipping the steaming coffee and staring morosely into the distance. His gray peacoat is the singularly dull, cool colour in the café, paired with a black and white vertically striped scarf.

He's the type to pay attention to details like outerwear, and insist on switching jackets regularly. Hipster glasses would complete the picture, she decides, and maybe a sleek macbook.

The timer rings, and Amu shuts it off before taking the cupcakes out of the oven. She gathers three colours of frosting and carries everything to the front.

He's taken a window seat at one of the tables, and she joins him there. They sit in comfortable silence for a while as she concentrates on each delicate design and he flicks through something on his cell phone that might be an Instagram feed. Vapour curls up in slow spirals into the air from his coffee, which rests on the table.

He's the picture of something that might be circulated on tumblr. It reminds her that they're very different people.

"You look so pretentious," she accuses all of a sudden. She sets aside a completed cupcake and moves onto the next, careful to use the exact amount of pressure.

Ikuto looks up, something flitting across his features that she isn't able to catch from the corner of her eye. "Oh? You think so?"

His voice is honey, smooth and viscous.

"Everything adds up. I bet you used to get your coffee at Starbucks."

"So Starbucks is a crime now?" he questions.

There's no aggression in his tone. It's still silky, almost a drawl that slips the vowels against the harder notes. She imagines that if she looked up, there would be a glint in his eyes that dissipates the shadows.

"I've never looked you up," Amu confides.

At first it was because she was unwilling to validate her curiosity, and now another reason — her dignity — has been added. She's not a stalker and she refuses to get upset if she follows him and he doesn't follow her back. Besides, she's certainly not interested in his life.

"But I can still tell your family is rich, very rich," she carries on. "And it may seem like I'm going on about a different time, but I think it so strange that we met. Because under normal circumstances, you'd go to a private school, attend a prestigious, expensive university, and work at some office. I'm sure you're expected to marry someone of your own station. We aren't and we've never been on the same trajectory."

When she finally looks up from the cupcake, he's watching her. "Maybe you're right," he agrees readily. "But isn't it enough that we have met? Enjoying our time together is more important than contemplating whether we're supposed to be together."

Amu looks at him, really looks at him. She goes past the strong jaw and sharp cheekbones.

"Perhaps," she says eventually. Then she smiles. "Well then, as a token of my sincerity, please take a cupcake."

She offers it to him, extending her hand across the table. He peers down at it with mild irritation. Then it strengthens into disgust when he sees the double later of frosting.

"Sweet things," he grumbles.

She retracts her hand and starts to laugh. "I'm joking. Give me your cup, I'll refill your coffee — no milk, cream, or sugar. It'll be bitter and awful, just the way you like it."

He returns the smile. "Better."

The autumn weather is mild, and Amu can't help but think that harsh wind has momentarily relented, just for them. Ikuto hasn't gone as far as to loop his every changing scarf around her, but he might yet.

The possibility sends a thrill through her.

She smiles up at the sky. The leaves are changing on the trees, and several flutter on to the ground. They're slowly making their way through the garden, stopping to admire the precise arrangements of flowers and shrubs.

Built many years ago by a wealthy businessman for his wife, it has retained its former wealth. The city regulates it now as a botanical garden. Despite the glory of summer being behind, there are still lovely colours and the green to tether them.

"What are you smiling at?" Ikuto asks.

He seems distant, even now, as he inquires about her. He was the one to suggest the garden — checked the weather, by the look of it — but although he readily participates in teasing, he's still at arms length. It's so mind boggling, how he wants to see her but he doesn't.

"It's so nice today," she says instead.

Amu turns the full force of her smile on him, and she's sure she makes a decent picture. She can never quite be cool with him, but she's wearing a navy beret and a pale yellow trench coat that are trademarks of French chic with her own touch.

It's a turn up of charm that even Ikuto is forced to acknowledge, and he did in the beginning of the trip with a quirk of the lips. "Well, I half expected for you to turn up in your apron," he said then.

She responded with a half shrug, half laugh. "I don't know if that's supposed to be a compliment or an insult."

His eyes swept her up. "A compliment, definitely. Not everyone looks that good without designer labels to back them up."

Another compliment and insult hybrid. She hit his shoulder playfully for it.

The fond thoughts of earlier fades into the sweet, fragrant air. Amu lets it dissolve and watches the cherry trees around them take its place. They're not in bloom right now, but their thin, scraggly branches reach towards the skies. In the spring, this place will be filled with gentle, pink petals.

The path through the park continues to wind around. Handfuls of little flowers surround the bottom of the trees, peeking through with bright colours. There's a white structure at the end, with an arching dome and intricately carved columns. A bench has been built in on the sides. It's a small, quaint place that's seen only joy. Amu points to it.

"Let's have lunch there. Oh, it's so beautiful, isn't it? Built out here, secluded, but open and so very... The architect must've had such a burst of inspiration."

He spares it a glance, but he doesn't seem to take in its story like she does. But even he can't hold his stoicism in the face of her excitement, and a small smile lifts the corner of his mouth.

"Alright," Ikuto agrees readily. "Since you're so in love with it."

She catches his sarcasm, but chooses not to react to it. "I am. It's tender. It's probably so perfect in May. I would love to sit here for hours, reading, or sketching, or thinking up new drink flavours. I've been toying with adding a milk tea selection to my menu, you know."

He arches an eyebrow. "Well then, I see you're already making future plans to spend your time here. Would it win your heart if I bought this part of the garden for you? Cherry blossoms and a little white gazebo for the lady?"

"And if that's what I wanted?" Amu asks, a little coyly.

Ikuto watches her with amusement. "You're much more demanding than the rest of them. They simply ask for dresses or diamonds, and you want me to pay taxes year after year. I don't think I can support you, my lady."

She sends him a mock scowl. "Who's supporting who again? I'm the one who packed the picnic basket."

"And I'm the one carrying it," he returns evenly.

Amu shakes her head. "Let's go then. Catch me if you can!"

She starts making her way towards the gazebo, spreading her arms and breaking into a run. The movement sends a breeze through her hair, lifting it until she's forced to clamp a hand over the back to keep it from flying unseemingly. The beret stays, as it's meant to.

A bubbling laugh escapes her chest, and she's so cheerful, it feels like joy is spilling over.

Behind her, Ikuto maintains his regal stride for a moment longer, and then he's chasing her, the basket banging against his legs. He's careful not to tip it over, but that's as far as his protection goes. He catches up to her, and she hears his shoes hitting the path before he's upon her, throwing his arms around her.

"Got you," he growls playfully into her ear. His hands dig into her ribs.

She tries to keep the shriek of laughter a dignified affair, and fails. The sound rings in the air and becomes another tale the gazebo witnesses, sealed there. It's too much to hope this moment will last forever. Amu does anyway.

* * *

 **Let me know what you think. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Exams are coming up and I'm dying, but I had to get this up. Hope it's to satisfaction :)**

* * *

 **Four**

"Sounds like he should just ask you out on an official date already," Rima dismisses, leaning against the counter. Narrowed eyes peer at Amu inquiringly.

They're at the café, and it's a quiet Thursday. The only people are a pair of sleep deprived looking college students, and the lone businessman sitting at a window table. Rima's taken advantage of it to polish off one of the blueberry muffins.

"He didn't say anything like that," Amu protests. "And it's not like he asked me, even when we spent time together outside of the café."

"Well then maybe you should ask," Rima answers matter of factly.

Amu sighs, and turns back towards the cash register as if it might give her some answers. Their measly encounters don't make a romance story, and neither does one sided obsession. Ikuto isn't her boyfriend or lover or anything close. There's no need to pretend that he is.

When he drops by her café, he'll stop to talk, and he's offhandedly mentioned another performance sometime but...

It doesn't mean anything.

The bell rings, a chiming sound that slips through the mostly quiet café with gentle surreptitiousness. Amu turns to Rima, starts to comment that Yaya's early today, when the words die in her mouth.

Coming through the door, setting a brisk pace, is a tall blonde with dark sunglasses. Her heels click on the tiled floors. A step behind her is a broader, more athletic figure with a wide smile that directly contrasts the tight expression on his companion's face.

For a moment, the pieces don't fit correctly.

Then it clicks. Utau Hoshina and Kukai Souma, only one of the most highly publicized couples in the celebrity world, have both just walked into her café. As an international pop idol and professional soccer player, they're a little more than extremely important. It's a little remarkable how they've hidden in plain sight.

Amu puts on a smile, and moves to greet them. She holds back the undignified excitement that flutters in her stomach. She knows them. Everyone knows them. She's meeting them.

"Hi," she says. "Can I get you something?"

Utau eyes the frilly surroundings with a sharp expression over the top of her designer frames. There is an air of casual importance around her, a presence that demands that everyone turn when she walks into a room. It's the same power she wields on stage even though the quiet, pastel café is far from the same as a concert venue.

"Pardon me." Even her voice has an extra layer of superiority. "But are you-"

"Two lemon bars, please," Kukai cuts in hastily. "With green tea and a strawberry smoothie."

Amu blinks for a moment. It's a little disconcerting to be talking to someone she's only seen on television. Not unlike through the LCD screen, his hair is deliberately wind blown and tousled, with several copper strands almost sweeping his eyes from under his baseball cap. It's drawn strategically over his eyes. He's obviously well built, with sleek muscles and squared shoulders.

"Right..." she says slowly, and then she's jerked into action. "Right, of course. Size?"

"Medium," Kukai asserts, sliding a card across the counter.

Utau shoots him a glance, and there is a distinctively cool quality to the hard shine of her gaze. There is a hidden sense of reproach. Amu tilts her head with curiosity, but then she bustles around fetching the mentioned pastries from the glass case. The drinks are a short affair, made methodically with typical precision even though her mind is much less organized.

When she sets them on the counter with the doilies as an extra touch, Kukai offers a half smile before taking them. Then he pauses.

"Utau and I," he says slowly, "would like to talk to you just briefly. Perhaps if you could duck away for several moments?"

"Uh," Amu stammers, a little flustered. Her cool persona has been compromised in the presence of stardom. "Well..."

"Go," Rima interjects. "I'll take care of this until you're done."

They step into the corner, away from the customers who still haven't gotten close enough to recognize either of them. Utau's mouth is still set in a firm scowl. Amu waits for an explanation. She's left hanging for a good two minutes before Utau nods, sliding her sunglasses down a fraction.

"You're Amu Hinamori, correct? My brother knows you."

"Yes?" Amu mumbles, confused enough that she can't even be excited a popstar knows her name. She looks towards Kukai, but he seems content to have his girlfriend handle it.

Utau holds up an envelope towards her insistently until she takes it. "I've obtained an extra invitation to the Hotori charity gala. If you're willing, I've scrawled a number on the inside. Just call that add yourself to the guest list."

Amu blinks. "Um, I don't think-"

Utau's stare is unrelenting, even behind the shades. "Think on it. It's quite simple, no?"

She swallows her protests. "I suppose," she mumbles.

Kukai sends an apologetic shrug Amu's way, and she hears him mutter something about being nicer to people at Utau. "Well thank you for serving us," he says with a half smile.

Utau offers a brief nod of acknowledgement, and then they're out the door, leaving a jingle in their wake. Amu blinks.

A quick Google search cross referenced with that magazine she'd bought so long ago reveals everything. _Utau Hoshina brother_ directs her to Ikuto, and Amu quickly connects the dots. The vague inkling she'd had solidifies. It's why that's the question.

She leaves the envelope on her dresser and flops onto her bed, letting out a soft murmur of content as she sinks into the pillows. The one bedroom apartment's a good fit for just her.

Amu drifts off to sleep with her jeans still on. After a brief nap, she jerks awake when her phone starts buzzing. Throwing out an arm, she pulls it closer and props herself up. A quick glance at the clock reveals the fact it's almost eight in the evening.

"Hello?" she says, the dryness of her throat leading to a more croaky sound than she originally anticipated.

"It's me." Nagihiko's voice is warm and smooth. "Have you eaten?"

Amu blinks, a little more awake now. She throws her feet to the side of the bed and turns so she faces her dresser. A mirror is placed on top, and a wide eyed girl with mussed hair stares back at her from within the silver depths.

"Oh well not really. But I'm not that hungry."

Nagihiko pauses. "Are you at home right now? Free?"

"Yeah."

"Come down. I'll find you in the front in ten. See you."

Amu starts to ask what's up, but the line goes dead. She sighs and stands. After sliding her phone into her pocket, she loops her keys around her neck and makes her way to the elevator.

True to his word, Nagihiko meets her on time, with a paper bag in one hand and bottled coke in the other. His smile is a little crooked, but his sincerity is real.

"I didn't get fries because I couldn't bring ketchup."

"Now I know who to blame when I get fat," she jokes, taking the paper bag at the same time. There are no pretenses between the two of them. "You okay? What's up?"

"Walk with me," he says instead.

Amu falls into step with him and they move away from the front of the building onto the sidewalk. It's starting to get dark, and the sun is slowly falling from the sky. The distant clouds are tinged with blush.

Nagihiko seems more pensive than usual, and he cuts a sharp profile in the dying light. The crinkle of paper as she unwraps the hamburger is the only sound from them, coloured by cars in the background.

"I got a visit from Utau Hoshina today," Amu offers to break the silence. "She gave me a ticket to the Hotori gala."

His eyebrows arch, and he turns to her in a sudden movement. "Utau Hoshina? Do you know why?"

She shrugs, a little uneasily. "Well she's Ikuto's brother, isn't she?"

"And an old family friend of the Hotoris, so she'd certainly have access to an extra invitation if she wanted." Nagihiko tilts his head, the curiosity in his eyes reflected in the dark sky. "Well. You must've impressed her to gain such a thing. She's not exactly the most agreeable person."

Amu swallows. "Here's the thing. I didn't really do anything. She found me, and just barged in. I have no idea why."

"You could come anyway," he says. And the warmth is back, present the way his hand lands on her shoulder. "The Hotori gala is one of the most prestigious events and numerous celebrities are invited."

"You're just saying that so you won't feel guilty if you put my arrangements out of mind and ask Rima to the gala," she teases.

"About that."

There's a pause, and Nagihiko's hand on her tightens as they cross the light. A bike swerves out of their way. Nearly stumbling, Amu fumbles with the paper bag and uncaps her coke. It's still cold, and bubbles as she takes a gulp.

She looks up, sensing the uncertainty in his voice. The reason he called her is coming up now, and she responds with attentive curiosity, a little concern. He doesn't look frustrated, but he is.

"Yeah?" she questions. "Did you fight?"

"Kind of," Nagihiko says. He looks past her into the reflective surface of a large building. "Not really. I said we should stop whatever we had and see other people."

Amu stares at him midway through another bite. "You said what?"

He gestures a little. "I told her I just wanted to know that she cared, and she said nothing. Nothing, Amu. Anything would've been good for me at that point, and she didn't give it to me."

"Rima cares about you," Amu tries, because it's her duty.

Nagihiko crosses his arms. "Try and understand. I care about her too. I just think that this would be the best. Perhaps she'll find someone who she'll truly feel for and then she'll express those emotions for him. We aren't together, technically, but for her and me, this is the end."

* * *

 **Please leave any comments/feedback. Thanks.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Haha so I just bombed my math exam but at least feeling depressed about it fuelled my writing and I finished this up. Enjoy.**

* * *

 **Five**

It's not Ikuto's usual time, but he never fails to come if only to make observations about her café.

"Every time I come, I'm reminded of your lack of interior design skill. This place is like a fairytale," he says. It comes out strangely ironic, with a wry edge instead of the compliment it might be.

He's come just moments after Yaya's departure, which is in retrospect wise to avoid the subsequent fangirling that would probably occur. Amu is closing up, tucking in the chairs and clearing out the baked goods.

"It's like aristocratic formal wear from the seventeenth century translated into interior decoration," Ikuto continues, and his footsteps sound softly in the mostly empty room.

He continues to approach despite the closed sign that clearly hangs outside the door. She lets him. That's the mistake.

"For your information, I quite like the _aristocratic formal wea_ r," Amu retorts, but there is no edge in her voice.

She turns around, watches as he drags a hand through his dark hair, mussing it up. Nagihiko's comment about the artistic, broody types suddenly seems very accurate.

The silence hangs between them, but it's more thoughtful than awkward. She senses that he's taking her in as well, the cat apron and rolled up sleeves and all. Amu lets him speak first.

"Say," he drawls. "Did you dream this thing up when you were a preteen in middle school or something?"

"Are you going to stop insulting my café?" she returns.

"Maybe eventually," Ikuto says. Then all of a sudden, he holds her gaze, dark eyes like the sky without stars. "But there must be something about it, because I keep coming back."

Her heart misses a beat. "No way," Amu says. "I'm not falling for that. Not until you say sorry for demeaning my café's theme."

His lips curve up into a smile. It illuminates his features, highlighting the angular line of his jaw and the graceful curve of his cheekbones. He looks like the upper class scion that he is. That smile should not be so illuminating when the rest of the time, he's gray and brooding.

"Well then, my sincerest apologies for offending you." Ikuto's gesture is grandiose. "Might I know how to make it up to you, my lady? Perhaps a dance?"

She laughs, watching him from under her eyelashes. "Maybe save that for the Hotori gala."

She takes another step forward. He freezes.

Suddenly, his face tightens, and there is something solid in his expression. "You're going?" he asks thickly.

The atmosphere shifts so quickly that Amu has trouble keeping up. The playful glint in his eyes is gone, and he's staring at her so intently that she fears she'll burst into flames any moment.

"I... yes."

"I'm sorry," Ikuto says. "I shouldn't be here."

He shoots her an unreadable look before turning and striding towards the door in long paces. She's too stunned to move, but just before he reaches the exit, Amu finds her voice.

"Are you leaving?"

It comes out a little croakier than she'd like, but he stops for a moment.

"You can't just up and leave without an explanation," she says, and this time it comes out stronger. She straightens her back, lifts her chin. "Am I wrong to think you might enjoy my company? If I am any more than an acquaintance to you, I beg you —"

"I'm sorry," he repeats.

He pushes the door open, letting in the breeze. Then it swings shut and he's gone.

-:-

Rima's drenched when Amu opens her apartment door, and long rivulets of water are dripping onto the carpet. The rain is pounding outside, making rhythmic impact on the glass. Her laptop is sitting on the coffee table from where it was discarded in an attempt to race the doorbell.

"You're soaking," Amu observes, and then she's waving her in, dashing to the cupboard for a towel and hanging Rima's coat up to dry. She gathers a t-shirt and some sweatpants and puts on the kettle in a short sequence of a few minutes.

Only when tea is ready and poured into two cups does Amu come out of the kitchen. Rima's already seated, dressed in the clothes a size too big, lucid eyes staring at a point beyond the horizon. The rain is leaving trails on the glass balcony door.

"I forgot my umbrella and it got pretty bad as I was walking over," Rima says, by the way of explanation. "This isn't news for the telephone."

Amu sets down the cups and makes another trip for the teapot. The china makes a delicate click as it meets the glass coffee table. She joins Rima on the couch.

"You'll want to see this," Rima promises, leaning forward and seizing the laptop.

She props it on her knees in a single movement and calls up a page. It's a web article, and the cover photo is a familiar figure. That's not the surprising part. It's the girl across from him him, it's the lips pressed to his cheek. It's a candid, and they've been caught in the corner of a restaurant, Ikuto's shadowed eyes looking into the distance almost dreamily.

Amu trembles a little, and then asks herself why she cares.

"Oh. So he has a girlfriend," she says.

"Not officially," Rima answers, poker face present as ever. It's not opaque enough to conceal the sympathetic glint in her eyes. "It's just speculation, apparently. That's Saaya Yamabuki."

Saaya's pretty in a coquettish kind of way, with delicate features and almond eyes.

"I figured you'd want to know," Rima continues, tucking long blonde hair behind her ears. It's still a little damp, and the strands are shade darker, sticking together. "It might be the reason he left so quickly the other day."

"Was I imagining it?" Amu wonders aloud. She's a little unfocused, hands limp and jaw slack. "Maybe I interpreted him incorrectly, maybe he doesn't like me, maybe —"

"Oh come on," comes the brusque interruption. "Don't do that to yourself."

Rima crosses her arms, sits up straighter, which hardly makes any difference to her stature. "You've got to show him up, let him know what he's missing." She nods determinedly, jerks her head. Her usual stoic boredom is briefly discarded for her particular brand of revenge plot.

"The Hotori gala's your chance. You need to get right in his face the entire night. I'll do your makeup, obviously, and you'll look so good he'll fall over himself to beg for your forgiveness."

"Rima," Amu starts to protest. "I don't know, I thought about it, but —"

"Amu," she mimics. "He's gonna be so depressed he walked out on you. This is going to work out beautifully, trust me."

Amu opens her mouth and Rima doubles in on the movement, casting a magnificent side eye. Before she can interrupt, Amu speaks.

"Okay," she says.

"Okay as in you're gonna let me do it? Call the number."

"Okay as in I'll let you do it if you'll ask Nagihiko to the Hotori gala."

There's a pause, filled only by the spatter of rain on glass. Rima purses her lips, and for sure she's remembering their fight. Amu considers it doing both her friends a favour, because one is more stubborn than the other.

"Don't even pretend," she goads. "I know you want to, and whatever you both said the other day, let it go. You like him, a lot."

Rima's scowl emerges, drawing familiar lines on her face. "I don't. I think he's a pretentious idiot. Also from the back he looks like a broad shouldered girl, and I won't —"

"I know why you didn't give him the reassurances he asked for."

Her face shuts. "No, you don't. It's not that I want him to do the chasing, not that I don't care about his feelings —"

" —you're _scared_."

Rima falls silent. The words strike true in the emptiness of the apartment.

Finally, she says, "Let's watch a sappy romance movie and eat ice cream and bemoan the state of our love lives."

"The Notebook?" Amu asks.

"Put it on," Rima answers. "I'll get the ice cream."

* * *

 **Comments and feedback appreciated :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

"He still sounds kind of miffed," Rima is saying as she shuffles through a rack of clothing. Her apathetic features betrays none of the sentiment in her words. "I'm honestly getting kind of worried."

"He'll come around," Amu answers reassuringly. Rima's expressions aren't always freely open, but they exist as surely as they cannot be seen. "Besides, you've been trying, I'm sure he can see that. I'm sure this is a big step."

"Stop sounding like a marriage counsellor."

"I can't, you two are basically an old married couple."

Rima's eyebrows furrow. "...not true." Then all of a sudden, her face brightens, warming even though it's a purely superficial reaction. Her small hands pick up a long, deep red dress and she takes it out, cocks her head.

"Hey, what about this?"

It's Amu's turn to be taken aback. "What? For you?"

"For you," Rima declares with startling conviction. "Come on, it's definitely stunning, party appropriate, it'll knock his socks off."

Amu groans, sure that if Rima ever says that again her ears will fall off instead. She shakes her head. "Let's go somewhere else."

Rima shrugs. "Fine, suit yourself."

She places the dress back, and they exit the store, joining the stream of people in the mall again. Rima smoothes her long, wavy hair and sighs. She gestures a little towards the food court, and Amu acquiesces with minimal communication. Ten minutes later, they're walking past another line of stores, and Rima's a few dollars poorer and a donut richer. Amu spots another place selling fancy dresses that are probably highly expensive, and she starts to step in when Rima's non sticky grip lands on her wrist.

"Hey," she starts. "Can I ask you something?"

Amu pauses, biting her lip. "Yeah, shoot. You know you can ask me anything."

Rima smiles, but it looks a little fake. It looks like one of those sarcastic smiles she gives whenever she's saying something particularly deprecating, which does occur on regular basis. Her eyebrows arch.

"What would you do if you saw Saaya Yamabuki right now?"

Amu furrows her brow, contemplating an honest answer. "Well, I hate to hold up the old clichés, but I don't think I could be nice to her. Of course, I would try and be polite because it's my duty to treat others well to the best of my ability, but —"

"Well, you're in luck, because she's coming this way," Rima interrupts flatly,

Amu whips around, looking for auburn hair. "Seriously?"

"Yes," Rima says, in that same emotionless voice. She jerks her head. "Say the word and we can run."

Amu scoffs, feeling sudden conviction bleeding through her chest. "No way."

She turns her head the other way, and this time, she sees Saaya marching their way with a determined expression on her voice. The model stride does much for a factor of intimidation, but Amu stiffens her spine and tilts her chin up.

When they're standing right in front of each other, Saaya nails her with an imperious expression.

"So I guess you're the one Ikuto's hung up on."

Rima presses her lips together, ready with a quicksilver response before Amu can react. "How do you know who she is?" It barely sounds like a question, and the demand is accompanied by a sharp stare.

Saaya shrugs delicately. "Oh well, you know, _Utau_ told me. Just the internationally famous pop star, nothing to it."

Amu frowns and wonders what Utau's trying to accomplish with all the manipulation. She narrows her gaze. "So you found me then. What did you want to say to me anyway?"

Those green eyes meet her challenge head on, like a lion rearing its head. "Oh, nothing. I thought about saying _stay away from Ikuto_ but I won't."

"And why is that?"

Saaya's expression is purely self satisfied; it's the kind of smirk that lifts the upper corners of her lips just slightly.

"Because I'm a socialite. I'm rich and beautiful, and you own a café and you'll never get anywhere. You're not suited for him."

"What," snaps Rima, while Amu's still blinking at the pure poison in her voice. "And you are? I don't think he likes empty headed society ladies."

The word _you_ sounds like a dirty curse falling from Rima's lips, a successful emphasis that changes the direction of the wind completely. Saaya's eyes flicker for a moment like rippling water, but then she's smiling.

"Success finds its own companions, and Hinamori, _you_ don't qualify."

-:-

After three people have asked her to dance, Amu feels confident enough to look for Ikuto. The banquet hall is large and spacious, even filled with all manner of the rich and famous. It's lit with a large crystal chandelier that hangs in the middle with a quiet glow.

In one corner, there are a cluster of people around a table, intent on giving donations. The Hotoris themselves are spread thin all around, greeting guests and encouraging generosity. Amu's already been by with Nagihiko, and although the flashiness of the event is pretentious, she can give nothing but a seal of approval for the people that this money might be able to help.

"Amu," someone says.

She turns and Kukai is standing there, a bright grin touching his mouth. He is as fetching in casual wear as he is in formal wear, but there is an extra glamour to him now that there wasn't when they first met in the café. He's wearing a single earring that catches the light when he turns his head just so.

"Um hi," Amu manages to say.

"How about a dance?" he offers, the same smile still brightening his face.

She can't exactly refuse. Amu takes his hand delicately, and Kukai slides into the fast waltz with startling ease. He's an accomplished dancer, she notes. He leads with fluid movements and excellent, precise footwork. They're halfway through the song when he finally speaks.

"Have you tried the refreshments yet? They're quite lovely."

The conversation startles her, enough to almost miss a step. "Not really. They're pretty though, from what I've seen."

"You should go by. Prince Charming's waiting."

"Prince Charming?"

Kukai's smile doesn't falter even as Amu's surprise shifts her weight awkwardly onto him. The only sign that he's noticed at all is the slight tension in his shoulders.

"Yes, it's true, rather unsuitable for one as gloomy as he, but the fairytales offer little variety on the ideal couple."

"I don't know," Amu mumbles, but when she looks at him, there's something in his eyes that says she can confide in him. "I thought there was something there, but now I feel a little ridiculous."

"Go talk to him," Kukai advises sagely. "I know Ikuto. I've met you once. But I can tell."

Despite everything, she laughs. "So you're some kind of genie now?"

"Well, I'll definitely be granting your wishes."

Amu lifts the corner of her lips. When the song drifts to a close, she touches Kukai's shoulder briefly, then steps away. He lets her go with a half shrug, and a promise that he'll find her later.

Then she heads towards the refreshments table with her head lifted high. There's no reason to be ashamed, because it's not like she's wearing a frilly apron... this time.

* * *

 **Ay confrontation time. Next chapter is almost done, expect soon. Please leave comments/suggestions. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Update is timely, like promised, for once haha. Thank you for favourites, follows, and reviews.**

* * *

 **Seven**

Kukai's words have given her enough impulsive confidence so that as soon as she sees him, she doesn't bother thinking. It's a stupid reaction reflex that shouldn't exist, but it does anyway and his name is tumbling from her lips.

"Ikuto."

Ikuto turns around immediately, but as soon as he registers her he purses his lips and lifts his chin in a way that makes him seem even more imperious than usual. He's wearing a navy tie and a well fitted suit that brings out the dark intelligence in his eyes.

"Amu," comes the muted response. "Lovely to see you."

The lukewarm response should probably act as a warning, but she doesn't spare any time to reflect on it. "What happened the other day? Why did you leave?"

He turns his head away, gaze shifting so that it falls directly over her shoulder. Long, delicate fingers briefly slide over the lapels of his suit. Discomfort doesn't register in his face but it flickers in his eyes and shows through his movements.

Amu can't find it within herself to be sympathetic.

"Answer me," she says. It's time to be assertive. She deserves this and she deserves an answer.

There is a long silence. He shifts again, obviously uncoomfortable, and a shadow falls over his face that highlights the definition of his cheeks and the sharpness of his collarbones. There is elegance in his features, and swooping angles that kick up the beat of her heart a notch.

Finally, the answer comes with quiet fervour.

"Saaya's here."

It's not unexpected. Amu tries not to feel affronted. This time, the assumptions flow easily. After their confrontation in the mall, several things have become more clear. "And she's your date. You care for her."

His nod is almost imperceptible. If it seems a little reluctant, than that's her imagination. That's a clear confirmation, but despite the certainty in his statement, she can't seem to pull herself away.

"I thought we might have something since you'd always come see me," she says. "Tell me there isn't. I'll leave you alone. I've got more pride than that."

More silence. Ikuto doesn't meet her gaze, and his shoulders stiffen even more, if possible. She waits for him to say it, and he would. He can uncaringly flick out a few scarce words and send her packing, and she wouldn't protest.

He doesn't. It's more cruel.

"Well then," she says, and Amu realizes her voice is trembling. "I understand. I'll go. I don't belong here anyway."

She starts to turn away, and against everything, wishes that he'd call her back. Her ankles wobble in the high heels for a brief moment, but then she recovers and continues to stride forward bravely. He's watching her. She can feel his gaze on her back.

"Amu."

The velvet voice comes. A flood of relief envelops her for a moment, but reality slaps her in the face. It's pity. Or something. She stops, but doesn't turn.

"My family expects me to be with someone like her." Ikuto sounds distant now, more than ever. "You... You don't fit into that equation."

"No," Amu interrupts, resenting herself for stopping. "Don't try to explain to me. I'm happy with my lot in life."

She doesn't wait another second before leaving.

-:-

Amu realizes in misery that Nagihiko is her ride and she doesn't exactly want to interrupt him while he's making up with Rima. Hopefully that's going better than her confrontation with Ikuto.

She fishes her purse for taxi money and realizes she's short on that as well. The only solution is to stand somewhere far away and hope she doesn't get noticed.

There's a balcony on the far end, and the doors open to a solid push. Amu steps out into the night, feeling the breeze on her face. She closes her eyes for a brief moment, clenches her fingers on the railing, and leans over.

"Pensive, are we?" a voice interrupts from behind.

Amu startles, and spins around. Tadase Hotori's warm eyes meet hers. He's standing in the doorway, where golden light spills out, lighting his blonde hair the same colour.

"Um," she tries, and then gathering herself and remembering to be polite, "perhaps a little. I'm just taking a break outside. It's a nice night, isn't it?"

His gaze sweeps over her, remembering. "You were with Nagihiko earlier," he says.

She recalls the table where the donations were taken, and their brief introduction. Amu offers a brief nod in confirmation. He is tie is the colour of fine wine, and the light filtering out gives the appearance of a halo. There is something majestic in his manner.

Tadase arches his eyebrows. "I would hope he didn't leave you alone."

She laughs, maybe a little awkwardly. "Oh, he's not my date. Anyway, I sent him off. I'm fine."

"In that case, since you're taking a break, would you mind the company?"

She sees no way to refuse, and perhaps she really wouldn't mind the extra presence. Amu shifts to the left, and he steps out, closing in to join her on the balcony. He doesn't place his hand over hers or in any way invade her space, but she can acutely sense him next to her.

"You really are pensive," he says, with the barest hint of something in his voice.

She doesn't react to it. "I've had a bad day."

"You didn't seem quite so distressed when we met earlier," Tadase observes. "Something that happened in the last little while?"

He starts to judge it unlikely, but pauses when he catches her expression. Amu bites her lip.

"You can go back inside," she says, abandoning any attempt to be friendly.

"I'm a near stranger," Tadase continues over her. He watches her for a moment. "That's a good reason not to confide in me. But it's also a good reason to do exactly that."

When she's unforthcoming, he shrugs easily. "It's my family's party, after all, I can't let one of the guests feel unhappy."

"Oh," Amu mumbles with frustration. "You'll think I'm foolish. I suppose there's nothing that I can offer to deny that anyway."

"Try me," he says.

She takes a look into those bright, warm eyes, and her resolve crumbles. The story spills out, like the dam has suddenly been broken and everything is flooding. She leaves out the names, doesn't elaborate on details, but Tadase is a good listener anyhow. He nods until she finishes, evaluating without judging.

When she finally has time to take a deep breath, he hums. "You know, I originally followed you because I thought you might be interested in getting a drink with me sometime."

Amu starts to flush, and she opens her mouth to make a retort, but he holds up a hand.

"A full on confrontation has failed, but you haven't taken into account the number of people here. Try him again, alone. Ask for the truth, and I think he won't deny you. Whether he'll act on whatever he feels is definitely a different matter."

She exhales.

"Now don't waste your time here," Tadase continues. "This is a very exclusive event, you know. And I see that you're hung up on someone else, but surely you can spare me a dance?"

Amu agrees, convinced. He must be a lawyer.

"You got me," she says. "Perhaps a dance or two wouldn't hurt."

* * *

 **Please leave comments. They make me happy :) I'm going to camp for two weeks, but I'll do some writing and next chapter will be up as soon as I get back.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you to everyone that left such nice comments. Please forgive me for the long wait :) Next chapter will be up in a couple of days. It's done, but I couldn't resist leaving the ending of this one haha.  
**

* * *

 **Eight**

Rima's smiling by the time Amu finds them both, a deep, soft look in her eyes that mutes the usual sharpness. She's wearing sky high heels but still shorter than both Amu and Nagihiko. The lights play off her glossy hair and the diamond brooch at her throat.

"You looked quite happy out there with Tadase," Nagihiko observes. "I'm assuming things went well with Ikuto but you didn't want to pull him away from his date?"

Amu's still hurt from the noncommittal way Ikuto brushed her off, but she manages a quick smile even as he mentions the topic. "We can talk pretentious jerk that plays the violin well later. You guys are good again?"

"Good again," Nagihiko confirms without a beat.

"Or something," Rima chirps in with her chin tilted up. "We're going to give things another go. Proper labels this time. I think Fujisaki here was just sour because when we went out I got hit on and he couldn't respond with _back off I'm her boyfriend_."

He turns back to her with a playful smirk. "You got me."

Amu observes them both carefully, and sees that there are some things they have to clear up. They haven't brought up all the raw, deep things to the surface, but they will. They're ready to fight for each other again, and that's what's important.

"Ready to go?" she says.

Then, suddenly, there is a tap on her shoulder from behind. She spins and comes face to face with Utau, whose imperious expression hasn't changed at all from when they first met. Kukai's not behind her to mellow it out with his tousled hair and lazy grin.

"Nagihiko," comes the familiar voice, "a pleasure, as always." She doesn't wait for a reply before plowing on. "Would you mind if I borrowed Amu for a moment?"

There is a pause. Utau crosses her arms, high cheekbones granting an aristocratic visage. She looks like her brother, the dawn to his midnight.

"Go ahead," Nagihiko answers evenly. "We'll wait for you by the front," he directs at Amu. He tilts his head, sharp eyes considering. And she knows he's caught that not everything is fine and dandy with her. "You should probably thank Utau, maybe ask her if there's something you should know."

Amu sighs. Nagihiko takes Rima's hand, and they take a step away to allow for the privacy that Utau's demanded.

"Thank you for the invitation you gave me," Amu starts, and her gratitude is sincere despite everything else that's happened here.

"An non issue," Utau states, waving her hand broadly. The black silk of her gloves is still pristine and unsoiled. "My plan failed, unfortunately."

"Your plan?"

Utau levels her with a cool gaze, eyes violet in the lighting. "I've done a fair bit of meddling in this relationship. Not the chasing, oh, that was all Ikuto. But... I told Saaya about you, did you know?"

"She mentioned something," Amu says.

She isn't surprised by the explanation. She doesn't find any cause to be offended either, although she wants the reasons behind Utau's machinations. It doesn't fail to deliver.

"I wanted to force a confrontation. I have nothing against Saaya, except for the fact that she's vain and insipid at the best of times. But our father wants Ikuto to marry someone like her, someone of the same class who can accompany him to all those society ball things. Ikuto will do what Father wants, because we lost him once and..."

Her expression sours. "Never mind. Anyway, then he met you. He's alright with Saaya, you've seen them, but with you, he's different." Utau scowls. "Don't get me wrong, I don't particularly think you're so inspiring. But he's something else when he's thinking about you. I thought it fit to intervene. Maybe you guys could've had your fairytale dance together or something."

"That," Amy says, "didn't happen." She looks up, bold despite herself. "He chose Saaya. Perhaps you were wrong."

She thinks she should probably be annoyed that there's been interference her relationship with Ikuto, but she can't bring herself to feel that way. It seems as if it was doomed to fail anyway.

"Maybe." Utau's delicate eyebrows draw together. She looks like him when she does that. It's strange, how different they look upon immediate appearance, and yet how alike with a finer comb of both their countenances.

Amu sighs with finality. "Maybe I'll try talking to him again. If it becomes clear that he doesn't want anything to do with me, then I'm fine as I am now."

Just as she's about to turn around, Utau's voice stops her.

"My personal business card," she says, offering a cream index card that seems to have come from nowhere. "Text me your number. Kukai seems to think you're an pleasant person. Maybe you could meet us for tea sometime. Or karaoke. Kukai likes karaoke."

Amu smiles genuinely and accepts.

-:-

When they hear the story, Rima engages immediately in excellent trash talk, citing that _his hair was ugly anywa_ y and _one sibling's music is obviously much better than the other's_. Nagihiko offers her silent comfort with a hand on her shoulder, but then he shrugs and mentions offhandedly that he listens to Ikuto's interpretation of Pagnini sometimes.

Rima's reaction to that is to dig out her phone and blast _Meikyuu Butterfly_ as loudly as possible.

One evening, after Amu's sent Yaya home and she's cleaning up alone, there is a hesitant knock on the glass door of her shop. She's scrubbing the counter with her back to the front, but she figures it's not Rima because Rima would simply barge in and it's not Nagihiko because Nagihiko would let her know before calling.

"Come in," she calls. It might be a customer that forgot their stuff.

When it opens, the bell jingles. "Nagihiko said you might be here," a familiar voice says.

She turns. It's Kukai. He's standing there with a breezy grin and a fitted leather jacket. His baseball cap sits sideways on his head, boldly emblazoned _swag_. Amu flushes and hastily rolls down her sleeves. Unfortunately, she can do nothing to hide her apron or the cloth in her hands.

"I didn't know you were coming," she says.

He tilts his head. "Change of plans. Utau had a brilliant idea. She texted you, didn't you see?"

Amu thinks to her phone, discarded somewhere in the back after Yaya went for a round or two of angry birds. When the customers came, she tossed Amu's phone back to her and rushed out to help them. Amu remembers unceremoniously dumping it somewhere and continuing to scribble in her notebook about that new bubble tea line.

"Um, no?" she tries.

Kukai gestures with his hands. He's forever moving, with unlimited energy that makes him seem younger than he is. He's fiddling with the studs at the bottom of the jacket now.

"We're going out for drinks and karaoke. The alcohol loosens everyone up and makes sure less inhibitions are in the way."

"That's so more people actually opt to sing," Amu guesses.

He turns a wicked smile on her. "Exactly. You're getting it. C'mon then. I've asked Nagihiko if he'd come, and to bring that girl of his with him — Rima, right? It's going to be a group of us out."

It sounds fun. It sounds like a wild night that will end with her giggling in her taxi, and stumbling up to her apartment. Besides, if Utau will be singing, well, it would be a shame to miss a free concert. Amu raises an eyebrow at Kukai.

"Well, you're lucky I'm low maintenance. Wait a moment, won't you?"

He obliges, and she runs to the back to throw on a pair of extra jeans and a pale pink top with flared sleeves. There's a bottle of perfume in the bathroom, and quick sprays in her wrists and collarbone suffice. She takes out the elastic band in her hair and rushes down to join Kukai.

"Utau will be around in a moment," he tells her as they step outside.

He waits as she locks the door, and when the white Lexus comes around, Amu slides in. Kukai slams the door after her, moving into the front seat. The leather upholstry is a cream that suits the pristine exterior. The street is less than empty, but they slip down it at a reckless speed by dodging obstructions and ignoring angry drivers. The light turns green, and Utau steps on the pedal with a little too much zeal, automatically leading to a joint wince by both Amu and Kukai. They arrive in no time, propelled by risky driving and sudden stops. By the time Amu stumbles out, she feels like she's already had a glass.

"Almost beat my record," Utau comments, pushing her aviator sunglasses up her nose. She's graceful, even now, and she moves to take one of Amu's arms in the crook of her elbow. She sends a meaningful glance Kukai's way above the dark frames that are useless in the fading light. "Have they arrived yet?"

"Yep," he answers brightly. "Just in time. Let's go inside, hmm?"

She tosses him a second pair of sunglasses. "Pull down your cap."

Despite their best efforts, when the step into the lobby of the building there are a group of teenagers that recognize the group and ask for autographs. It takes them several minutes to escape, and duck through the hallway towards their assigned room. Amu breathes a sigh of relief when they navigate away, because some of the fans looked quite obsessive.

Beside her, Utau regards Kukai with a smirk. "I signed more than you."

He looks back for a second from the lead, breaking the even stride of his high top sneakers on the glossy floor. "How is that possible? Every one of them asked me."

"The girl with red hair asked me for two," Utau returns smugly.

"Fine, you win. This time."

When they arrive at the end of the hall, Amu waits for them to go in first, but Kukai draws open the door.

"After you," he says generously.

She's still a little nauseous from the car ride, but she slips through the door into the darkened room. The strobe lights are on, and the first thing she makes out is a bar on the far end with numerous bottles scattered on top. There are two figures there, one with...

Her eyes widen and she starts to backpedal, but Utau and Kukai have already both stepped in, shutting the door behind.

"Amu?" comes an uncertain voice from the other end of the room. He's just as surprised as she is, the emotion leaking into his voice. There's something else there too, something she can't quite identify.

Amu turns to eye Kukai with something akin to betrayal. "I can't believe you guys."

"What?" Kukai asks innocently.

She groans. "Why is Ikuto here?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Urgh so my wi-fi is on and off and it kind of sucks, but I managed this finally.**

* * *

 **Nine**

A couple drinks in, Nagihiko and Rima arrive, and neither look surprised at Ikuto's presence. Amu has stayed stiffly on this side of the room, refusing to talk to him. Saaya she isn't interested in talking to either, but straight up ignoring the other girl seems to be a little immature.

Utau is uncharacteristically excited, a gleeful hint to her every movement. She's not shy about singing, and so she starts off the machine while Kukai and Ikuto mix drinks. Kukai does it with great bravado, presenting Amu with a pinkish yellow concoction, which he claims is his own invention. Amu thinks it would probably be safer to get her drinks from Ikuto, but she's not inclined to do that.

"This is awful," Amu mutters into her glass when Nagihiko takes his seat next to her.

His features are not as clear in the darkness, but his dark eyes are calm and even, as always. She can make out the curve of his jaw.

"Ah," he says, shrugging. There's a nonchalant tone to his voice that sounds light but probably has deeper layers if she had enough energy to peel them all away. He's like an onion during the best of times. "Seems alright to me — drinks, soon to be music, friends, what else could you ask for?"

"You know what I mean," Amu grumbles, sure that he does.

Nagihiko's perceptiveness is razor clean, honed through years of observations and a mild personality that calls for something sharper. If he weren't heir to a hotel empire, he would probably make a great psychiatrist. He proves it, now.

"You need closure," he offers, waiting for her to accept or deny the statement. When she does neither, he continues, "Rima thinks he's the one for you. We couldn't let him escape. Besides, earning Utau's approval is quite the Herculean task but you've accomplished it. That must mean something."

"I was going to talk to him," Amu says, voice hesitant. She leans back into the couch, cradling her drink. "Eventually."

"You wouldn't have done it," Nagihiko evaluates. "Fear of rejection stays even the bravest hand."

"Says who?" she asks testily, crossing her arms and awkwardly minding the cup. It sloshes anyway, almost spilling over.

"Erikson," Nagihiko responds breezily. "In his intimacy vs. isolation stage he states that a deterrent to building relationships is this concept of rejection."

Amu makes a face. "I hate when you're smart."

"Go talk to Ikuto," Nagihiko advises. "Before you or he are raging drunk."

Amu thinks that she has to toss down a couple more ounces before she finds the courage. She starts to say as much, but then the intro music to _Black Diamond_ is playing. When the beats start, Utau's clear, lovely voice rings out. They both stop to listen. It's different without a stage, screaming fans, and extravagant costumes to support the act, but Utau's talent is obvious. Amu sways with it, caught with emotion.

The room is dim, but the peace on Utau's face is apparent. The siblings were both obviously blessed with musicality, though they took it in different directions. It seems like it takes an eternity for the feeling to fade even after the sound does.

Perhaps it's immature to refuse to talk to Ikuto. If Nagihiko is right, which he always is, then there is still something to resolve. Maybe they can be friends after that. Her heart clenches, but then she consciously loosens her grip, making a decision. It won't be tonight. She doesn't need it tonight.

The microphone switches hands several times (Kukai unsuccessfully tries to serenade his girlfriend, his talents lie more with athletics and Saaya goes for an upbeat dance anthem) before Utau calls that they should start the foreign songs too. To be specific, she challenges Nagihiko's English, who good naturedly rises to the challenge. He and Rima sing a duet of _Just Give Me a Reason_ , which hits all the high notes surprisingly cleanly.

When it ends, Rima sends Amu a grin, which she returns with a little hesitation. Wavy blonde hair cascades down her back, a little mussed from some of the gesturing. She rakes it up into a careless ponytail, tying it together with a band.

"Killing it," Utau whistles. "Didn't you guys had it in you."

"Looks like interacting with all those American guests actually had some use," Ikuto snipes at Nagihiko, but a bright expression lights his face in a way that is rarely seen.

With a pang, Amu's reminded of their walk in the gardens.

Next, Rima takes on the world solo with _No Scrubs_ , while Nagihiko protests that he "ain't no broke ass, I swear it."

When it's finally Amu's rotation, her mind immediately drifts to a popular pop song she's heard several times on the radio. Unfortunately, it's about love and she's made her decision about no love at the moment, but then she figures to hell with it she might as well. Ikuto has no right to interpret anything from it anyway.

The beginning of Adele's _Someone Like You_ sounds, the quiet piano setting an ambiance. Saaya looks like she might be scoffing. Amu ignores it, launching into the opening verse.

Ikuto's watching her, dark eyes pensive. If he's reading into it, it's his business.

Amu focuses on the lyrics and making sure her accent isn't too awful. She recalls Adele's soulful rendition and throws himself into it, slipping away with the story. "Never mind I'll find someone like you-oooh," Amu sings. "I wish nothing but the best, for you too."

Perhaps it's stupid to sound like she's given up before even trying, but it's a song she likes and she doesn't care. He's looking at her so delicately. It's almost uncomfortable. She didn't think her singing was that awful. When the song fades into silence, there is tension in the room. Kukai doesn't even mimic wiping away fake tears, and the reason steps up, a cool expression on her face.

"You," Saaya hisses, emerald eyes filled with spite. "Are you so pathetic that you would try and steal my boyfriend right in front of me?"

Amu opens her mouth and she sees Rima surge to her feet. Kukai also looks disgruntled and steps forward, eyebrows furrowed. Before anyone can say anything, Ikuto cuts through.

"That's unfounded."

His eyes are cold, and the glint that reflects from the lights is icy in the hardest way.

Saaya turns on him, fury colouring her features. Her green eyes flash once again in response to his gaze, darker in the dim lighting. There is a special affront to the way she tosses her hair. "You would defend her? That... That commoner? After you chose me?"

Amu personally thinks it's a pretty pathetic defense, but she doesn't interrupt. She stands there at the front, rooted in place, hands still clutching the microphone.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have," comes Ikuto's detached response.

Amu's eyebrows arch. Perhaps she was too quick to judge the level of Ikuto's vitriol. After all, Utau's is legendary.

Saaya gasps, slaps a hand to her chest in an overdramatic fashion that seems over exaggerated but probably isn't. Drama queen comes naturally to her. "I won't dignify that with a response."

"You've proven that you're vindictive and judgemental," Ikuto continues over her. "If you keep attacking Amu, I don't think you'll fit in here."

Saaya stands, wobbling for a moment on high heels. Then she stalks out of the room, shutting the door with a thud. Ikuto turns back to the rest of them, a casual shrug gracing his shoulders.

"So much for her," he says.

* * *

 **Turning point is fin. Bear with me, we're almost to the end. Two chapters left - I made the choice to keep things pretty light, but it was just a choice for this fic because tbh I haven't seen Shugo Chara in a while haha so I'm not well versed enough to explore deeper.**

 **Please leave any thoughts - it makes me warm and fuzzy when I read them :)**


End file.
